


carved names (crossed out)

by Phoenix_Allura (Artemis_Autumn_Marie)



Series: Nix's Whumptober 2019 [31]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone's sad, F/F, Gen, Hurt Thomas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Death Cure, Protective Minho, That's it, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Worried Minho (Maze Runner), again everyone's worried, sad Thomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Autumn_Marie/pseuds/Phoenix_Allura
Summary: Prompt: EmbraceThomas knows that using the Glades to house people will be a good thing.He just doesn't know how to handle being here.
Relationships: Frypan & Minho (Maze Runner), Frypan & Thomas (Maze Runner), Harriet & Thomas (Maze Runner), Harriet/Sonya | Elizabeth "Lizzy" (Maze Runner), Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner), Sonya | Elizabeth "Lizzy" & Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: Nix's Whumptober 2019 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507226
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	carved names (crossed out)

Thomas glanced at Sonya as she leaned on his shoulder, Harriet’s head in her lap.

Well, at least they weren’t making out in front of him yet.

“What are you thinking about, Thomas?” Sonya asked. “Minho?”

“No.” Thomas answered, looking around them. The time he’d been here, a good half dozen boys had died. Alby and Chuck had died.

It wasn’t fun, being here.

(He’d gotten up early that morning to look around first. That’s what he told them, anyway. What he’d really done was gotten five steps into the Maze and had a panic attack, then another when he made it to the Glade. Eventually he’d given up and curled up in his spot in the forest, sobbing.)

He didn’t know why he’d agreed to come back.

“Then what are you thinking about? How our Glade is better than yours?” Harriet teased.

“Oh, I never doubted that.” Thomas told her. Looking at their Homestead, compared to the ramshackle building a few yards away, you wouldn’t think they’d started the same way.

“Then what?”

“Wondering why I thought it’d be a good idea to come back.” Thomas held up a hand. “I know it was my idea in the first place, using the Glades as a community center for those who can get here, but being here myself is now not seeming like a great idea.”

“You should have gone to ours again today.” Harriet told him. “It’s easier, being here.” She and Sonya would know. They had both started sobbing shortly after they’d finished their work there the other day.

(Thomas had muffled his crying in a blanket, but he was sure they still knew.)

They’d been there for years. Thomas had been here two weeks at most.

“Yeah. It’s familiar, but it’s different enough that’s not going to send me into a panic.” Sonya agreed. “You said you’d tell us if you were going to have one of those, Thomas.”

“I’m not.” He’d come close, walking through the Maze. It might have been their way out, but he hated it almost more than he hated WICKED. “I just can’t stop thinking about everyone who died.” Earlier, when they’d taken a break, he’d crossed out Chuck’s and Alby’s names on the wall. Frypan had done a few others--Winston, and kids Thomas hadn’t known.

They’d both left Newt’s for a time when Minho could get here, if he ever did.

He’d want to cross it out himself.

There were few of them left alive, now.

“Is this about the wall, Thomas?” Of course they’d noticed; they noticed everything. “Cause we have something to show you.” Harriet hauled him and Sonya to their feet. Thomas hadn’t realized she’d gotten up.

“Look.” It was Harriet’s name, high on the wall, Sonya’s next to it. “Put yours up, too. A new beginning.”

“You found the one I did for you.” The words slid out of his throat.

“Yes. Your name is going on it, too.” Thomas used the ladder they’d found, and carved his name up next to theirs.

It looked a little different from the one on the other wall.

Steadier, somehow.

“Everyone who comes here will mark their name on the wall, Thomas. It’ll be a record, of people coming and going and living.”

The one they’d had before wasn’t that. They’d been trapped. They’d been pawns in a game they didn’t know they were playing.

They’d been children.

Were still children, depending on you asked. 

This one wouldn’t mark death; no names would be crossed out. They’d fade with time, but they’d be there.

It was the reason Thomas had started the new one, when he saw the names the girls had been crossing out in their Glade.

It was almost funny, how similar things were.

Just the little differences, the Homestead, the gardens, the kitchens.

Thomas wondered, idly, what aliens would think if they came and found these.

What they would decide they meant, if no one was around to explain.

“Come on down, Thomas. It’s getting dark.”

“Or do you want to spend the night?” Thomas shook his head. Even with the Grievers gone, with no threat here, he didn’t want to stay.

He almost wished he’d stayed in Safe Haven, now. 

It would have been easier. 

Harriet and Sonya each had an arm around the other when he came down, bodies reaching for the other. They were talking quietly, foreheads nearly touching.

Thomas missed Minho, now.

Even if it was only for a few days, he wanted to know what Minho would think of all this.

What they were going to do here.

“Thomas, you coming?” He looked up in time to see Sonya pulling away from Harriet, reaching for him. He nodded.

“Just thinking.”

“Again? Twice in one day must be a record for you.” Thomas rolled his eyes; that sounded like something Minho would say. He was about to say that when muscled arms wrapped around his waist and someone rested their chin against his shoulder.

“Surprise!” Sonya cheered. “We’ve been really down the past few days, so when Frypan left we asked if he’d send Minho along.”

“Let’s head out, yeah? Fry’s holding dinner for us.” Minho didn’t glance at the wall of names, not the one above them or the one on the other side of the Door.

He wouldn’t have come back here if he hadn’t thought Thomas needed help.

(He was right. But Thomas didn’t want Minho to deal with--this.)

Sounds good.” Harriet tugged Sonya back to her, threading their fingers together. Minho lingered a moment longer, pressing a kiss to Thomas’s cheek, before he did the same.

“It’s weird, being back here. Right after we left I never wanted to come back.” Minho was hardly even whispering. “As WICKED revealed more and more plots and plans, I wanted nothing more than to come back and never leave.” Thomas nodded. He’d felt that way, too, for a while.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t so sure of anything anymore.

Frypan had saved them the good stuff, milk and lean meat and bread.

Thomas didn’t eat much.

It was something Frypan had noticed in the Glade, to the point of nearly forcing him to eat. He noticed tonight, too, but he didn’t say anything.

He knew what Thomas was feeling, that nothing would make him want to eat.

Harriet and Sonya kept up the conversation, joking around. Minho had an arm around his waist the whole meal, even though it must have made it hard to eat.

“Well, I’m headed to bed. Clean up when you’re done, alright?” Frypan excused himself as dark set in, and Harriet and Sonya left soon after, cleaning their plates and putting them away.

“See you in the morning!” Harriet squeezed his shoulder as they left. Minho must have sensed he was done eating, since he pulled Thomas down to rest his head on his shoulder.

“I’ll finish up quickly, alright?” Thomas nodded.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, Min, I’ll take care of it.” Thomas mumbled. But he thought Minho understood anyway.

“Want me to wait outside or go to our cabin?” Minho asked, voice gentle.

“Our cabin. I’ll be along in a minute.” Thomas had the feeling he would start crying and he wanted the walk to their cabin to breathe and calm down.

The dished blurred and shook as he washed them, mirroring his shoulders and hands, the tears in his eyes. They crashed into the dishwater and Thomas watched it drain, detatched. It took a moment, but he put the dishes away and wiped up the counter. He slid down the cupboards to the floor, silent sobs now shaking his whole body.

Without light coming in through the windows, the room was dark.

Every shadow reminded him of something.

It took him a long time to get up. He almost wished he’d asked Minho to stay, now.

Using the counter, Thomas stood, the ground shaky and the room blurry.

It was almost too much.

Thomas took the long way to their cabin, avoiding the fires. He could hear Brenda and Jorge laughing, Gally telling some dramatic story.

He didn’t want them to see him.

When he got to their cabin, Minho was waiting, carving wood by candlelight.

“Hey, Thomas. Rough--?” Minho stood up, nearly knocking over the candle in his haste. “Did something happen?” Thomas shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. It was too hard. 

“Come here.” Minho wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to their bed. Thomas kicked off his shoes and curled up. 

He didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t think he had more tears to cry.

All he wanted was to feel safe.

Minho followed him under the covers, pulling them up, tucking them in, before Thomas laid his head on his chest, listening.

To his heart, to his breathing, to the crickets and the wind outside.

Thomas didn’t have to worry about anything now. Minho had him, safe and close and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I have 2019's whumptober, as long as it took me. I hope you liked it!  
> Let me know what you thought, and come hang out on tumblr @mazegays!  
> As always,  
> Nix


End file.
